Phemie Frost's Experiences Part 73

"To patient faith the prize is sure--"

I dare not go farther and complete the rhyme, because human sensation should not encroach on the divine; but the spirit of that hymn sings in my heart; for if there is anything on this earth that woman should be grateful for, it is love.

Yes, my sisters, at last I feel that I am beloved. A ray of sympathetic feeling has darted from a grand and n.o.ble soul to mine, changing that dull, sandy coast to Elysium.

Last night, when I retired to the secrecy of my chamber, it seemed to me that if ever a woman's heart--beg pardon, a young girl's heart--was born again, mine had become more tenderly infantine than it was when I lay one week old in my loving mother's arms.

The moonlight was streaming through the muslin curtains of my room when I entered it. It was an ovation of silvery light dawning upon the new life that opens before me. I do not know how other people feel when the crisis of fate is on them, but in my heart there is room for nothing but infinite thankfulness.

Yes, sisters, I think you can conscientiously congratulate me. Virtue does sometimes meet with its own reward, especially when it is combined with youthfulness, elegance, and high mental attributes.

XCVI.

C. O. D.

Dear sisters:--The cruelty of one female woman to another is something awful. As a general thing, E. E. Dempster is a good-natured, amiable person, but her conduct on the very day after that heavenly season on the sh.o.r.e was worthy of the Spanish Inquisition. She has lacerated the heart in my bosom, and torn me away from this place like a ruthless highwayman. That is what she has done.

Early in the morning, while I was dreaming sweetly of the sea-sh.o.r.e, that unfeeling female rushed into my room.

"Phmie," says she, "you can't sleep any longer. We are packing up for the city. Cecilia has been insulted here, and I won't stay another hour in the place."

"What! what is it?" says I. "How could you! He was just giving up metaphor and coming squarely out in the sweetest way."

"You will have no more than time to pack your trunk before the train starts," says she.

"Starts--what for! where?"

"For New York, and after that to Saratoga; Cecilia insists on it, poor, sweet darling."

"For New York?" says I.

"On the way to Saratoga."

"But--but who is going. Is--is--?"

"Why, you and I, Dempster, and that sweet, ill-used child. Would you believe it, that rude boy's father refuses to whip him, and said a girl that could give a black eye with her parasol was--well, I can't find the heart to repeat it. At any rate, she doesn't stay another hour under the same roof with that little fiend."

"But is that all--Oh, tell me is no one else going?" says I feeling as if a ton of lead had been heaped on me.

"Dear me. There is no one else to care for the poor child. Of course, no one will take it up but us. So make haste."

Out she went, leaving me just heart-broken and ready to give up. How could I go? how could I leave him and "the Branch," as if my soul were fleeing from his?

It was of no use. E. E. was set upon going, and I couldn't help myself.

Well, sisters, two hours after I left that bed we had packed up bag and baggage, given a cart-load of trunks for the express-men to smash or carry, just as they liked, and then took a little run of railroad, and a sail in a steamboat so grand and airy, and no ending, that we began to feel sorry that James Fisk was dead, or that his splendid ghost didn't roam along the steamboat track and keep things s.h.i.+p-shape, as he left them.

Well, in that steamboat we reached New York, warm, restless, and nigh about ready to give out, or take a friendly sunstroke and be peaceably carried away to a cool vault in some shady graveyard.

I mentioned this alternative to Cousin Dempster, but he shook his head and answered that some of us might find ourselves waking up in a more uncomfortable place than the streets of New York; which I thought impossible, but said nothing.

Well, we had a few hours to stay in the city before a boat would be ready to take us to Saratoga Springs--a name that sounded so cool and refres.h.i.+ng, that I longed to get there and breathe again.

Cousin E. E. said, when we went ash.o.r.e:

"Phmie," says she, "there are a few hours before us; suppose we go a-shopping? I want ever so many things. Saratoga is a dressy place, and I haven't a thing to wear."

Then, before I could object, says she to Dempster:

"A check, my dear, or if you have the funds on hand."

Dempster gave a sigh that shook his manly bosom through and through, and says he:

"There," drawing a roll of bank bills from his vest pocket, "will that do?"

E. E. unrolled the bills and sorted them out.

"Ten, twenty, fifty, ten, ten, ten, fif-- Why, Dempster, what do you mean? How far will a hundred and fifty dollars go? I want to spend more than that on Valenciennes lace for Cecilia's dress. The child must have something to wear."

She spoke in a grieved, half-angry way, that touched Dempster to the heart. He took out his pocket-book, but not another sign of money was in it. Then he felt in three or four pockets with the air of a man who was tormented with doubts of finding anything. At last he stopped looking.

"I haven't another red cent about me, dear. Indeed I haven't."

"Dear me, what am I to do? There is a guipure sacque at Stewart's that I must have."

"Couldn't you get along without it?" says Dempster, with such pathetic earnestness that I really felt sorry for him.

"Get along without it! How can you ask?"

"That Brussels lace thing," faltered Dempster.

"What, that? I have had it six months at least; besides, I saw another just like it at the hotel, and that is enough to disgust one with anything. If people will pattern after me, I can't help it. Then again one gets so tired of the same thing."

"But I have no more money."

"Can't you draw a check?"

"My check-book is at the office."

"Always so when I want anything. Now, Dempster, this is too bad."

"Well," says Dempster, desperately, "get the thing, and tell Stewart to charge it?"

Cousin E. E. turned her face away. It was awful cloudy, and I could see that she was biting her lips. She had an awful long bill at Stewart's already. Then her face lighted up.